


You're Not You When...

by jellysharkbat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullion, Dorian's POV, Gen, M/M, open-ended short fiction YAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellysharkbat/pseuds/jellysharkbat
Summary: Cullen hasn't been himself lately.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	You're Not You When...

Your heart is beating so loudly that it's nearly enough to drown the noise you can hear within. It's nearly enough, but not quite. You can't escape the angry growls you hear, the way the guttural roars make your skin crawl with fear.

He's in there. Waiting. Angry.

He doesn't remember a single thing, has no idea who he is anymore. All he knows is how furious he is, and you're planning to walk into the same room with him like some sort of...idiot. The South has truly turned you into a simpleton if you honestly believe that any part of this is a good idea. Well, maybe not _good_. But it's the only feasible option. Maybe that's worse. At least if you thought it were a good plan, you could imply that there _were_ other plans available to you.

But the truth is there is none, and you volunteered to do this.

Pavus, you utter, utter fool. Rilienus was right when he said that one day your need to solve everything would come back to bite you in the ass.

Though he could have never envisioned this. No one could have. Even Felix would surely be torn between asking how the hell this happened and dragging him far, far away from those angry growls.

But you can't. You can't just leave. You wouldn't even if every person you ever cared about begged you to. It wouldn't be right to run away while he's in there, confused and angry and alone.

There's no doubt in your mind that he won't recognize you either. After all, he's barely aware of himself. Assuming you want to be generous and imagine that he's not a completely mindless creature who merely wants to lash out at everything that moves.

Your hand trembles, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. A paltry attempt at bravery, but you think it helps. You tell yourself it helps as you reach out to pull the door open.

You can do this. You know how to fix this, to _cure_ this. You spent hours- days- researching how to do this. You owe it to him. To yourself. To those long nights spent in his bed, to the bright days trying to con your way past his chess pieces. To the fights over stupid Southern customs and cultural misunderstandings. To promises of the future. You owe it to his beautiful smile and the gentle hands he loves to caress you with.

You owe it to the amber eyes that look at you now with bestial hatred. 

You wish you could say something clever as he pulls his lips back, revealing frighteningly large fangs. He's not pleased to see you. You can't help but note how his haunches tighten, how he lowers his body to the ground, how his claws dig against the stone floor, and how his golden eyes never leave yours.

Even like this, your lover is a marvel to behold.

Maker, but you wish you had something clever and witty to say. Something to assure him and you both. But words escape you. All you can do now is hope that you will survive this encounter.


End file.
